


Tea from Terai

by mistyzeo



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Past Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5671276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes gets a letter from Terai, and remembers that he <i>does</i> know someone in Terai. Or, knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea from Terai

**Author's Note:**

  * For [conchs82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/conchs82/gifts).



> [Commission](http://mistyzeo.tumblr.com/post/132862219044/commission-me-to-write-a-fic-and-help-me-get-my) for conchs82!

"Holmes," I said, rifling through the week's post I had just picked up from town, "you have a letter."

"Throw it in the pile with the others," Holmes sighed, plucking idly at his violin. I could tell the arthritis in his fingers was bothering him.

I handed the letter over instead. "I don't think it's a case."

Holmes took it and turned the envelope over. There was no return address; I had checked. He put his violin aside, intrigued, and sat up a little straighter in his chair. Then he fetched his reading glasses off the side table and I admired him quite blatantly as he put them on. I love the way he looks when he's wearing them. It is an obvious weakness of mine. Holmes caught me staring and winked. Then he turned his attention to the letter and began to narrate his observations and deductions. I went to put the kettle on.

"Heavy stationary," he said, "sturdy. It's come a long way." I heard him inhale, smelling the paper. "Ah, mostly the Fulworth office— their tobacco is so strong— but there's an aroma underneath…" He inhaled again. "Familiar."

"Do you want tea?"

"That's it!"

"Tea?"

"Yes."

"Do you want some?"

"No, the smell is tea."

"Right, but do you want some."

"Yes," Holmes grumbled. "Stop interrupting."

I rolled my eyes and put out a second cup.

"The postmark is from Terai," he said. "I don't know anyone in— oh!"

His gasp of recognition made me poke my head out of the kitchen. " _Do_ you know anyone in Terai?"

He was slicing the envelope open at the top. "I might," he said. He put the opener down and pulled the letter out gently. "More tea," he said, smiling. "I should have recognised the handwriting… but it has been a long time. He's developed a few peculiarities since…"

The kettle boiled, so I stepped back in to pour the cups and sweeten them. I put Holmes's at his elbow and sat down across from him, in my old armchair. With the steam curling around my face, I watched him read. His smile grew and then dimmed; his eyes narrowed and widened; he bit his lower lip as he turned over the first page. The letter was several pages long. By the time he had finished, I had worked out who it was from.

"And how is Mr Victor Trevor?" I asked.

Holmes smiled weakly at me. "Not well," he said. "He has read some of your cases. He sends his regards."

"I didn't know they got _The Strand_ in India."

He made a noncommittal noise and got up, taking off his glasses and folding the letter. He put the letter in his pocket. "I'm going for a walk," he said, and vanished out the door. His tea still sat untouched on the side table.

I watched him go, frowning. His walk didn't take him far. Indeed, he went to the end of the garden path, where it tops the hill and the ocean is visible, and stayed there. I saw him take out the letter and read it again, his head bowed. I gave him ten minutes before I went out after him.

He heard me coming and didn't flinch when I put my arm around his waist. Nor did he look at me. His face was dry but his jaw was tight.

"Has he died?" I asked.

"I don't know," Holmes said. "Possibly, by now."

"I'm sorry."

Holmes shrugged. I put my cheek against his shoulder. "I haven't spoken to him in almost forty years," he said. "There's no reason—" He stopped and swallowed hard.

"Did you love him?" I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before. He'd been Holmes's only friend in his youth, or so Holmes claimed. There was no reason he couldn't also have been his first lover. A little flare of jealousy lit in my throat but I pushed it down. I should be grateful I wasn't the only man Holmes had ever cared for.

Holmes looked down at the grass. "Possibly," he said again.

"That's a reason," I said.

"He says you're to take care of me."

I squeezed his middle. "Don't I?"

"He suspects so, judging by your stories."

"Not as subtle as I always thought, am I?"

That made Holmes smile. "No, not to some readers."

"Ah, well, those are my favourite readers," I said. "The observant ones."

Holmes slipped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. "Mine too."


End file.
